Page 137 of Creeping Beautiful

PRESENT DAY

For some indeterminable amount of time everything is silent.

Indie is lying on the couch, eyes still closed. Donovan is leaning over her, the word ten still echoing in our heads.

I’m holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. I’m not sure what. But my world was just rocked to the core and for some reason I feel like this needs to be acknowledged with a natural disaster of epic proportions, or a fucking troop of trumpeters, or something.

“Indie!” I finally exhale with that one word. I grab her shoulder and shake her, then look up at Donovan. “What the fuck! What the fuck, dude! She was gonna tell us the trigger word!”

“She can’t tell us the fuckin’ trigger word, McKay. It doesn’t work like that. She told us what she could. Forcing her to say more under hypnosis is unethical.”

“Fuck you and your ethics! Someone got to her! Someone triggered—” I grab my head. I want to pull my hair out. “That’s what happened on her birthday four years ago. That was the trigger!”

“She drugged us. She came on to us and made us…”

“What? Made us… what”

“None of that would’ve happened if we weren’t drugged. Don’t you get it? He sent her to kill us that day!”

“No shit, asshole!”

“And he’s been working her for nine years, McKay. You don’t think he built in some kind of self-destruct mechanism?”

I pause for a moment. Thinking. Trying to come up with the answer to this new problem.

“Her mind is messy right now. We can’t just go poking around looking for answers and not expect there to be consequences.”

Indie moans on the couch. Then her eyes fly open and she sits straight up like a puppeteer is pulling her strings. “What. The fuck!”

“Indie!” I kneel down next to her, my hand on her shoulder. “Are you OK?”

Donovan is right beside me. “Do you remember any of that?”

Indie looks at him, then at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open. “What did I say?”

Donovan stands back up and sighs. “We were talking about your birthday, Indie. Your twentieth birthday. Do you remember what you told us?”

She squints a little, then lifts her head up to him. “Maybe?”

“What do you remember? Tell us, Indie. Tell us what you remember.”

She closes her eyes and swings her legs over the side of the couch, her fingers grasping for my shoulders like she needs to steady herself. “I’m not sure.”

Donovan sits down next to her. “Try harder. Just… take a deep breath and let your mind go blank. Then think back to what we were talking about. I led you into it with a timeline. And when we got to your twentieth birthday, you stopped me and went back to when you were fifteen. Can you tell us—”

“OK. Hold on.” I put a hand up to stop Donovan. “We need to know that, but first… I need to know if you remember what happened on your twentieth birthday, Indie. I need Adam here for this and he can’t come home until you remember what happened that day.”

She opens her eyes to look at me. “Why can’t he come home?”

“Don’t you remember? Yesterday you wanted to kill him, Indie. He doesn’t trust you.”

She starts shaking her head. “No. I didn’t say that. Did I say that? Why would I say that? Oh, my God. My head hurts so bad.”

Donovan stands back up. “OK. That’s enough. You need to rest for a little bit, Indie.”

“Rest?” I can’t believe he just said that. “No. We’re so fucking close, Donovan! We can’t stop—”

“She’s tired, McKay.” Donovan’s voice is low and serious. “And her head hurts. We need to let her relax.” He turns to Indie. “It’s a lot to process, Indie. I just want you to close your eyes and try to sleep.”